Cliffhangers starts right off by quickly pointing out that there is “an absence of actual regret.” among mountaineers who have survived catastrophes such as the 1996 massacre on Mt. Everest. While I thought that the proceeding analogue between mountain climbing and stage acting was very limited, I did see the merit in the observation that excitement in climbing literature comes mainly from risk, peril, and tragedy. However, I see this focus on the dramatic as a product of selective literature consumption at best, and ignorance at worst. I would modify the point to say that the entertainment value of a climbing tale is heightened when “stakes are high and something goes wrong”.

The article moves on to point out the detachment and aloofness with which many mountaineers view the death of their peers. This impersonality has to exist. No man could have the fortitude to keep climbing if each and every death, and the impacts thereof, accumulated to define his objective. This definition would truly be a grave one (no pun intended), for it is far more often that a life is taken wholesale than miraculously bettered by a scrape in the hills.  Without insulating ones self from the ‘take’ of the mountain, it is nearly impossible to really appreciate the ‘give’. The opposite is also true, but it is excessively dwelling on those who’ve died in their pursuit that has the potential to do the most damage. It is much preferable to focus on the beauty and grandeur of a peak as a tribute to the ghosts of the mountain (this will help one succeed who lacks fortitude). On the other hand, drawing too near to these deaths and empowering the mountain as an omen of their loss has lead to the disintegration of many a climbing party.

My final bone to pick with this article is the classification of modern mountain writing as having turned toward the ‘egobiographical’ because all of the mountains have been climbed and all that climbers have left to write about is themselves. Horse Hockey. For as long as mountains have been climbed, individuals have seen them as pathways to glory; I do not deny their place as mechanisms for egotism. But, in my fairly extensive adventures in mountain literature this is not the dominant trend that it is presented to be. Not every mountaineering story is written to fund the next maniacal summit; I’d argue that most are honest discourses and discussions about a subject that is contrived and opaque by nature.

There are certainly examples to the contrary though; ‘On Edge: The life and climbs of Henry Barber’ is a good example of how a book’s subject can create the impression of egoism regardless of the book’s intention. Too much focus on the person who was the young and impetuous Henry Barber (a deeply egotistical and individualistic man) could easily lead to the belief that Chip Lee (the enamored but innocent biographer) was seeking to glorify Barber and his personality instead of simply report it.

One point of agreement: among mountaineers there is a heavy dose of self-proclaimed martyrdom. This, however, is not pervasive and does a poor job of describing mountain narratives as a whole.